Wet
by asimplylucia
Summary: Fist posted on LJ for the SanSan Russian Roulette. "Sansa sees Sandor emerging from water (pond/river/lake/sea), in a style of Pride and Prejudice Mr Darcy pond scene... It is up to the author whether she remains unnoticed or not, and what she sees and thinks. Timing also up to the author, ACOK or post ADWD" –For ladytp
1. Chapter 1

**As I couldn't decide (ACOK or post ADWD?), I wrote two versions of this prompt. The first one, which is the most faithful to the original prompt in my opinion, is a post ADWD ficlet. In the second one (chapter 2), Sansa is much younger and the setting will remind you of ACOK.**  
**It's up to the reader to decide which version is the best!**

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The sound of something _falling_ into the water startled her while she came back from the ruins of Winterfell's Glass Garden. Sansa hurried to the pool at the far end of the Godswood, for fear Rickon had slipped on its muddy banks. The surroundings of the pool were treacherous when the mild spell combined to the warmth coming from the hot springs melted the snow. _But Rickon is having his lesson in the maester's turret,_ she recalled, somewhat slowing down. _Good luck to you, Maester Aenyd._ Her brother had come back from Skagos so unruly she sometimes feared for the maester who taught him how to read.

Once on the banks, Sansa observed her surroundings. _Nothing. _Not even a ripple on the water, just the steam rising out and giving the place its eerie atmosphere. Arching an eyebrow, she turned around and she would have resumed her walk had she not tripped on a heap of clothes she instantly recognized. The boots were larger than anyone else's in Winterfell - and probably in a much bigger area; the cloak had warmed her some nights, during their journey North and she had mended that tunic more than once. _Oh no._ She briefly closed her eyelids and wished she could walk away inconspicuous. Escaping was pointless, though. _Sandor always sees me when I least want him to._

Determined not to run like some foolish maiden, she stood there but kept her eyes on the melting snow at her feet when a splat informed her Sandor was emerging from the pool.

"Are you decent?" she asked, still staring at the ground.

"Depends on your standards." Was it the North wind or his husky tone that made her shiver? She pulled tighter the pelt warming her shoulders, as if she was the one who ought to cover herself. "I bet you inspected the heap of clothes at your feet so you know I've got my breeches on."

She wanted to glare at him, but when she looked up, his fit of laughter confirmed her cheeks were crimson. Slapping his knees, he spattered water. Layers of thick woolen clothes usually hid his body, but now that his chemise and breeches stuck to his skin there was no way to ignore his broad shoulders and muscled legs. Her turmoil increased. _Mother, have mercy- No, I'm done with this, _she thought. For a second, she willingly forgot her chapped hands, the food supplies running low, the poor state of Winterfell and she focused on the man who stood knee-deep in the water.

"Will you join me?" he asked, jutting his chin out like the carefree, exasperating man he sometimes was.

"Nn- No." It sounded like a 'yes' and both of them knew it.

Sandor smiled wickedly at her. "Let me escort you to the castle then."

Dripping wet, he climbed on the banks with a growl and put his boots on. She chanced a glance at his torso and bit her lip. _I can't help myself._


	2. Chapter 2

**In this version, Sansa is much younger and the setting will remind you of ACOK. If yesterday's version was rather playful, this one is slightly darker.**_  
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_For once I'm not the prey,_ she thought, after the Hound helped her dismount at noon. Sansa stared at the dead stag tied and lying across the back of a horse, its head hanging down sadly.

Joffrey had forced her to join the hunting party and to listen to his bravado every time some lord referred to the war with the Northerners. _Of course, _Joffrey would crush the rebels like he shot rabbits with his crossbow and he would prove himself on the battlefield. _Of course._

For now, the king and his friends gathered for a feast before resuming their hunt: Joffrey was too busy to notice her absence. Eager to stretch her legs and to be alone after their lengthy ride, she wandered in the woods. As long as she could hear their raucous laughter, she knew she wasn't too far…

Careful not to ruin her new ankle boots, she walked to the pond she had spotted from afar. A smile graced her lips at the sight of the small pond surrounded by reeds. It vanished the second she saw _him_, swimming there. _The Hound. _Joffrey's sworn shield was unpredictable and he never missed an occasion to scare her. She hid herself behind a tree, sat there and prayed the Seven. _If he ever notice I'm here…_ Yet she didn't run away.

The Hound seemingly enjoyed the fresh water. _Is he naked?_ She shook her head; that was improper. _The sun is hot today,_ she mused, trying to give sense to what she saw. Yet why not attending the feast, when there was good food and wine? _He loves wine._ Why leaving the party and coming here, alone? Was it possible that they had both shut themselves away for the same reasons? _It can't be, we have nothing in common, _she thought, her breath stuck in her throat.

He swam across the pond several times then raised to his full height and she noticed he wore breeches: was it a relief? Her heart beat too fast to allow her to decide. She couldn't take her eyes of his naked torso. Broad shoulders, thick muscles, scars, hair… _He's a man, not a boy like Joffrey._ She bit her lower lip: her boldness bordered on treason. The Hound ran his hand down his face and stood there, his features unusually serene then he walked to the pond edge, splashing water. As he did so, she sucked in a deep breath: his wet breeches stuck to his legs. It was more than she could take so she closed her eyes and stayed curled behind the tree, catching her breath.

When she glanced toward him again, he had disappeared. Perhaps she should stay here a little more, to make sure the Hound had joined the hunting party. _Not too long though: if Joffrey realizes-_

Behind her, a twig broke and she turned at once, petrified.

His long hair dripping wet but now fully clothed, the Hound loomed over her and his crooked smile was unreadable.

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**So... which version did you like best?**


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